


A Stormy Situation: The CB Side

by Anjion



Category: Starlight Express - Phillips/Stilgoe/Webber
Genre: I love writing for this little caboose!, Please read A Stormy Situation first, or this will seem a very odd story!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anjion/pseuds/Anjion
Summary: A little companion fic to A Stormy Situation, from CB's point of view.
Relationships: Components/Electra (Starlight Express), Dinah/Greaseball (Starlight Express), Pearl/Rusty (Starlight Express)
Kudos: 4





	A Stormy Situation: The CB Side

**Author's Note:**

> I headcanon CB to have two sets of brakes; his stops on the front, and more mechanical ones on his heels. He uses his stops to halt himself when he’s on his own, as the other engines, coaches and trucks do, but he uses his rear brakes when he’s working on the trains. 

**CAST:**

**Greg Mowry (with long hair) – Rusty**

**Todd Lester/Jeremy Kocal – CB**

**Jeffrey Socia/Dustin Dubreuil/John Partridge – Electra**

**Greaseball is the typical Elvis impersonator, Dinah is brunette, Pearl has the pink hair, Gremlin is also brunette and has twin bunches on the top of her head. For everyone else, think Broadway 1989.**

* * *

_Pain. All he was aware of was pain. He had thought that the sharp stabbing sensation of the first shock was bad, but it was nothing compared to this. He could feel_ _the electricity_ _racing_ _through_ _him_ _, flooding his small body with_ _far_ _more_ _power_ _than he had ever been designed to deal with_ _,_ _numbing everything except the terrible pain_ _and rendering him completely immobile._

_He wanted to scream, to cry, to let his distress be known, but he could make no sound, frozen in place as he was. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t move..._ _he was completely trapped._ _Trapped in a hell he didn’t understand... He felt something pop by his right temple, adding a fresh wave of pain to his overall agony, but he could do absolutely nothing about it._

_Then, just as suddenly, it stopped when he was launched backwards into the air. For a single surreal moment, everything seemed to be in slow motion, and he seemed to just hang there in the sky. And then time sped back up, and he was falling..._

_But he never felt the impact. He was unconscious before he hit the ground._

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000

CB returned to consciousness slowly, as if rising out of a pool of mud. He felt strangely detached, as if his body was no longer part of him, and there seemed to be a general air of calm surrounding him. Somewhere in the distance, he could faintly hear what sounded like a muffled murmur of voices, although he currently could not discern how many there were. He thought that at least one was male though. 

A short while later, CB found himself able to identify Poppa’s voice. He couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his deep base rumble was unmistakeable. He still didn’t recognize the other voice, though he could now tell that it was a female, and he frowned for a moment, wondering who it could be. But the voice wasn’t clear enough for him to pick out any identifying features (such as Dinah and Buffy’s distinctive accents or Gremlin’s high-pitched chattering), and so he quickly gave up, deciding it wasn’t important right now anyway. Besides, just the sound of the voices was kinda soothing... 

He took a deep breath, then exhaled through his teeth in a hiss when he felt a sudden sharp pain across his chest. He winced, feeling the tiniest bit panicky when he realised that he could feel his body again but couldn’t move it. Thankfully though, the pain subsided and he relaxed again, although the almost serene feeling he’d previously been experiencing didn’t return. 

Then he realised that the voices had stopped. Feeling a little uneasy, he frowned again and tilted his head slightly to the left, where the voices had been coming from, and noticed a dark shadow above him, blocking out the light. He paused, now more confused than ever, unable to figure out what was going on. And then, what seemed like an age later, the female voice spoke again. 

“He is coming round,” it said, matter-of-factly, and CB was quite surprised that he was able to actually pick out the words this time. With some difficulty, he slowly forced his heavy eyelids open, now too curious to remain in the dark any longer. He had to squint against the ridiculously bright light the first time around, but he succeeded on the second attempt and found himself looking up into the pale face of Electra’s repair truck. 

He blinked and shrank back, not quite sure how to react to having her scrutinizing him at such close quarters. But Wrench didn’t withdraw, instead poking and prodding at him and doing checks that he wasn’t yet awake enough to understand. He weakly protested when she shone a light directly in his eyes, but the quietly indignant squeak did nothing except cause a glint of amusement to flash across the other truck’s face. 

Eventually, Wrench finished with her examination and left him alone, at last allowing CB to look around the room. He recognized it instantly as the repair room – this wasn’t his first visit – but he was still a little too out of it to question his presence there. Instead, he slowly turned his head, listening to the quiet but persistent hum of the electrical equipment that was charging in the far corner, and reacquainting himself with the very clinical aesthetics around him. He briefly wondered how anyone could be truly comfortable in a room with such bland décor, but quickly dismissed that with the logic that it wasn’t exactly meant to _be_ a comfortable room, since it was a room that most people wanted to get out of as soon as possible. 

When he got around to the left side of the room, he noticed someone sitting in a chair next to the bed. Even though CB knew who it was, it still took his brain a moment to catch up with his eyes and confirm that it was Poppa, watching him closely and looking unusually tense and tired. He visibly relaxed when CB made eye contact with him, the tension flowing away and making the whole atmosphere much lighter. 

“Hey there, CB!” he said quietly, a relieved smile planting itself firmly onto his face. 

CB couldn't help but smile back at him. “Hey Poppa.” 

“How do you feel?” 

CB wasn’t sure how to answer. On the one hand, he felt ok in himself, if a little spaced out. On the other hand, he’d just become aware of just how much his whole body _ached_... 

“Sore?” he offered eventually, grimacing and shifting an arm into a more comfortable position. 

“Hmmm....” came the sympathetic response. “That’s to be expected, considering...” 

There was a long pause, during which time CB attempted to get comfortable. It wasn’t really working, though, since he’d now discovered that he was also rather stiff, and even the tiniest amount of movement that he _could_ achieve sent shivers of discomfort rushing through him. He gave up after a while, instead looking tiredly up at the ceiling and trying to guess what the others might be doing at this moment. He gave up on that pretty quickly too, since it took too much effort to think, so he settled for just staring blankly at nothing. 

The room was quiet save for the never-ending hum of the electrical equipment, and CB actually jumped a little when Poppa finally broke the silence again. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

CB didn’t respond. Instead, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremble out of his lip as a sudden wave of dread washed over him. He could almost _feel_ the memories returning to him, threatening to overwhelm him, but he didn't want them. He didn’t _want_ to remember. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to pretend that nothing had happened, to continue his life as normal and deny all knowledge of the event. But he didn’t have the energy to resist, and reluctantly found himself replaying the whole thing in his head. 

He had hitched up behind the electric under his ‘annoying clown’ guise, wanting to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t blow a gasket or something in the middle of nowhere. Electra was part of the family now and, while CB didn’t like him much, he couldn’t deny that the flashy engine was a valuable addition to the team. 

It had been ok to begin with, with the two of them just coasting along, seemingly not really aiming for anywhere in particular. But then had come the first boom of thunder, causing the already disorientated Electra to startle and bolt like a spooked racehorse, zipping along at breakneck speed and leaving CB terrified for his life even almost before they’d begun. And everything had only gone rapidly downhill from there... 

_He remembered screaming the engine’s name over and over, fighting to be heard over the deafening thunder and hammering rain, trying to get through to the obviously sick train who seemed to have forgotten that the little caboose was even there; to persuade him to slow down and take shelter. He remembered doing his best to apply his brakes to bring the speeding train to a halt himself – as quickly but carefully as possible, to avoid tipping them_ both _over and very possibly resulting in serious injury – but failing, what with Electra’s erratic trajectory and the extremely slippery tracks which were slick with rain._

_He remembered the bolt of lightning hitting the ground, frightening them both and almost sending Electra careening off the tracks in the other direction. He remembered the sharp pain of the first shock as electricity came through Electra’s couplers and burnt his hands; remembered the yelp he had let out and the tears that had sprung to his eyes, and the self-control it had taken to keep holding on, knowing that if he let go at such speeds, he’d likely have ended up a tangled mess again._

_He remembered the second strike most of all. He remembered feeling the current surging into his small body, filling him, flooding him, completely incapacitating him; remembered being unable to move or let go, and the terror that accompanied that realisation, remembered the hot tears streaking down his cheeks, remembered the horrible burning in his already painful hands, remembered the agony— oh, the never ending, all-encompassing, inescapable agony that had him firmly in its clutches; torment that lasted for less than a second but which felt like a lifetime; torment that he couldn’t escape, couldn’t escape, couldn’t escape, couldn’t—_

He suddenly started to panic. He knew it was just a memory this time, but he couldn’t help himself; it felt so _real_ and he didn’t know how to get out. It was as if the electricity was coursing through him again, and he heard himself choke out a frightened sob as he fought desperately to return to the present. But he just couldn’t seem to break free... 

And then someone wrapped strong, warm arms around him, bringing him back to reality with such a snap that he felt it like a physical pain. He gasped with a mixture of shock and relief as the vision faded, and then, unable to hold back the tide of emotion any longer, he burst into tears. He pressed himself hard against the elderly steamer, clinging to him as if his life depended on it, and sobbed, finally letting out all the fear and pain that had been supressed for so long. Poppa gave no judgement, instead just holding the distraught caboose close and gently rocking him until he calmed down. 

After what seemed like an age, CB was finally able to get himself under control once again. He held onto the engine for a few moments longer, sucking in mouthfuls of air until the lingering hiccups subsided and he could breathe evenly again. Then he loosened his grip on the engine and carefully pushed against him, and Poppa, understanding, unfolded his arms and tenderly guided him back against the pillows without saying a word. CB didn’t resist, sinking gratefully into the mattress, pausing only to wince at another sharp spike of pain in his chest. Poppa noticed and asked him if he was alright, but since the pain had already faded into a dull ache, CB simply nodded and wrapped one arm protectively around himself, using the other to wipe away the tear tracks from his still wet face. Poppa regarded him suspiciously for a moment, apparently not entirely convinced, but deciding to let it go. 

The two sat in silence for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company. Poppa started to hum a soft tune that seemed familiar to the caboose, though he couldn’t quite work out where he’d heard it before. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, listening to the soothing melody. 

He was just about to drift off when a thought occurred to him that made him frown again. 

“Poppa?” he called quietly, almost reluctant to break the pleasant calm but needing an answer. 

“Mmmm?” responded the steamer, and CB could almost hear the fond smile in his tone. He didn’t continue for a moment, giving his brain a chance to try and work out the answer to his question on its own, but nothing was forthcoming. 

“How did I...?” 

“Electra carried you back,” Poppa supplied, not even needing to hear the rest of the question, chuckling when the answer made the boy freeze with his mouth open in shock. 

“H-he did?” 

“He did.” 

CB couldn’t process this. He'd gone with the sniffy and clearly unwell engine to make sure nothing happened to him, and it had ended up with Electra carrying him home?? Electra had actually done that? He didn’t remember anything between being thrown into the air after the shock and waking up in Wrench’s repair room, so he had easily figured out that _someone_ had retrieved him. He certainly hadn’t expected the answer to be _Electra_ bringing him back though— 

“Good thing he did, too,” Poppa continued, interrupting CB’s train of thought, with his voice taking on a rather more serious tone. “You weren't even breathing when you got back here. Apparently, there was way too much uncontrolled electricity trapped inside you, and your body couldn’t cope and almost went into complete shutdown.” 

CB went pale at that (or at least, would have if he actually had the ability to go pale). Shutdown was probably the most dangerous condition for a train to be in; almost the equivalent of cardiac arrest for a human. While trains _could_ survive in shutdown for a considerable length of time, it was still not a good condition to be in, especially if the original cause of shutdown was still present. If CB had been on the verge of _complete_ shutdown, then that meant he was extremely lucky to still be alive. And since it had been Electra who had brought him back in time, that meant that he owed his life to the electric... 

“Electra told us about how he found you,” Poppa continued. “Seems you both took quite a tumble down a hill, and he had to walk for a bit before he spotted you, so the blast must have thrown you both apart. 

Took Wrench 8 hours to fix you both up,” he added somewhat distractedly, almost as an afterthought, but CB wasn’t really listening anymore anyway. 

“How is Electra?” he asked, doing his best to act casual as he tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. He was suddenly feeling very tired, though he wasn’t ready to admit it, certainly not in front of Poppa. 

Poppa glanced sideways at him, biting back a smile as he replied. “He will be fine once he has recovered from his repairs. He woke up maybe 2 hours ago? Wrench did a stellar job.” 

“That’s good,” CB murmured in barely more than a whisper, yawning widely again and completely forgetting to hide it this time. Poppa watched him fondly, chuckling quietly to himself at the caboose’s valiant efforts to ward off the inevitable. 

Once again, the two trains fell into a companionable silence, punctuated only by CB yawning for a third time. He was already losing the battle against his desire to sleep, and he could no longer keep his eyes open. Then the steamer started to softly hum again, and CB gave in, letting his head nod and fall into the soft pillow. 

Mere moments later, he was sound asleep. 

* * *

The next afternoon found CB sitting on the edge of the bed, impatiently waiting for Wrench to finish her ministrations. Right now, she was in the process of rewrapping his left arm in the same strange black material that currently adorned his right arm, starting halfway up his fingers and ending at his elbow. It felt weird and cold, and CB wasn’t sure he wanted it on, but Wrench had insisted, threatening to keep him inside if he was difficult about it. Since CB couldn’t think of anything worse than being stuck indoors with Wrench, especially in the summer, he had reluctantly submitted. Besides, he had apparently had it on when he first woke up and he hadn’t noticed, so he supposed it couldn’t be _that_ bad. 

He held his arm up in front of him, examining the material closely. “What _is_ this stuff anyway?” he wondered aloud, turning his arm this way and that and flexing his hand as he tried to figure it out. 

“It’s a waterproof gauze,” Wrench told him tersely, gently repositioning his other arm which he was absently allowing to droop. CB glanced at her, confused, and she sighed. “I had to do quite a lot of intricate repairs to your hands and arms,” she explained as patiently as she could. “This gauze will protect your outer bodywork while those repairs settle, and will also prevent dirt or water from getting into the glue before it has dried properly. Your knee fared better, but it will still need protection since the damage was on a joint.” 

“Makes sense,” CB agreed as the repair truck finished wrapping his arm and held the tacky edges together until they bonded securely. 

“Good.” 

Wrench at last let go of CB's arm and quickly moved down to his right knee, propping his foot up on a stool so she could get to it more easily and deftly removing the layer of gauze already there. CB took the opportunity to have a look at his knee himself and try and find any sign of the crack that he had been told had been there, but he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary and very quickly lost interest. 

He turned his head to look out the window and broke into a happy smile when he saw Dinah passing by outside. He waved frantically, trying to catch her attention, and was rewarded with Wrench sharply but gently flicking his leg to get him to sit still. CB hissed (in surprise rather than pain) and scowled at her, but she carefully ignored him and so he went back to looking out the window. 

Dinah had gone now, but he could see a few trains in the yard. Gremlin was there, Rusty’s hat atop her head, spinning in circles and laughing like a maniac while Rusty stood by, hand over his face as he tried to hide his smile. He spotted Volta and Joule casually rolling by in the background, on their way back to visit their master (CB assumed), having an animated conversation as they went. He even caught sight of Poppa, chugging slowly in the other direction, pausing to laugh at Gremlin and give Rusty an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he passed. 

Then he heard Greaseball’s horn in the distance, signalling the return of the freight train, and he suddenly felt very antsy. He started to wiggle even more impatiently as he watched Rusty and Gremlin both turn at the sound before skating away, earning himself a Look from Wrench, but he ignored her. He kept his eyes fixated on the window, desperately yearning to be out there too and back where he belonged, and fidgeting restlessly as he heard Greaseball’s horn again. He was going to miss the train! He was supposed to be out with his team! 

Wrench, who had by now finished CB’s knee and was trying to catch his head in her hands so that she could check on his other injuries, gave a long and somewhat irritated sigh. “CB, I need you to sit still so I can actually do what we’re both here for,” she said with reproach, reaching for his head again. CB ducked out of her hold again, refusing to let her break his focus on the window. 

“I want to be out!” he whined, balling up his hands into frustrated fists. “I want to be out with the freight train! They’re all out there without me! I want to go back to work! I want—” 

“You will not be doing any work until I say you can,” Wrench cut him off sternly but gently, keeping her face very carefully guarded as CB turned sharply to look at her, shock and dismay evident on his face. The repair truck seized her chance and swiftly grasped the caboose’s head between her palms, and this time he didn’t resist. She sensed the moment he dropped his gaze, even as she pushed his blonde hair out of the way so that she could get a look at the healing burn on his right temple. (His radio had exploded inside his hat, presumably during the strike, and while it hadn’t caused any lasting damage, it had certainly left a nasty mark!) 

CB was silent now, submitting easily to Wrench as she gently turned his head, checking on some old injuries while she had him in her grasp. He hadn’t expected that he wouldn’t be allowed back to his work yet, and he was experiencing an intense feeling of loss that he couldn't explain. He hadn’t been off work since – well, he didn’t even want to think about _that_ – and now he just felt empty. He had come to love being on the freight train with his friends. It was good, wholesome work and kept him occupied, and to be denied this, even for a little while, was always a real blow to him. 

Wrench caught a glimpse of his downcast face and instantly pursed her lips. She understood how he was feeling – and the sort of things he did when he was upset – but she also knew that moping wasn’t going to help the situation. 

“Oh come now,” she chided softly, tipping the caboose’s head forwards and carefully feeling through his hair. “It’s not forever.” CB didn’t respond, except to flinch and let out a quiet hiss as Wrench pressed her fingers gently against the long crack that still ran down the back of his head; an old injury that had never healed properly, despite Wrench’s best efforts. 

“Besides,” she added, her voice taking on a dry and sarcastic tone, “think of all the mischief you can cause in the meantime, while all the others are busy.” 

CB visibly perked up at this. He may have left his days of crashing trains and generally being despicable behind, but he still possessed a lot of restless energy that he needed to channel, and thus he had become quite the prankster. All his pranks were carefully thought out so as not to cause anyone harm, though, since he wasn’t about that anymore, and this would indeed be the perfect time to set up a few! 

A wide grin spread slowly across his face, causing Wrench to raise a knowing eyebrow (which he didn’t notice), and the familiar wicked glint returned to his eyes. Wrench, deciding she needed to get him out of her repair shed before he got any ideas (not that he’d _dare_ target her; she was one of the few locomotives who made him nervous), finished checking him over and then reached behind her to retrieve his hat, which she had also fixed. 

“I expect to see you back here tomorrow so that I can check on your arms,” she commanded him, passing the hat to him, satisfied when he easily curled his bound fingers around it. “I still need to apply the varnish anyway.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “And if I have even the _slightest_ suspicion that you are even _considering_ doing something I wouldn’t like, I will personally lock you in the freight shed until I deem you healed enough to return to work; do you understand me?” 

“10-4, Good Buddy!” CB chirped enthusiastically, saluting smartly and earning himself a disdainful glare from the repair truck, though she didn’t say anything further.

The little caboose planted his hat firmly on his head and hopped off the bed, still grinning happily. Wrench accompanied him to the door and then watched as he stepped outside, pausing a few yards away to take in the sights and sounds that he had missed. He flexed his back and stretched his limbs, then turned back to look at Wrench, still watching him from the doorway. 

CB gave her another salute, amused when she responded by continuing to glare at him. 

And then, with a mischievous grin, he was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am incredibly proud of this work. I haven't finished a story this big for two whole years, and now I've created this. This is achievement!


End file.
